


That Sweet Midnight Elegance

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Hetalia Kink Meme, Pegging, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soft footsteps approach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Sweet Midnight Elegance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Hetalia kink meme and then reposted to LJ March 24, 2011.
> 
> The prompt was for Liechtenstein/Netherlands and pegging. This is probably the weirdest, most random pairing I've written for a while. But I kinda dig it a lot, for whatever reason. It's the size difference, man.

  
  
Soft footsteps approach him. They are in the room together, and he knows that once he turns around there will be no going back. But this thought does not disturb him, but rather excites him. He turns to watch her, watches her cross the threshold of the quiet night, the bedroom. He watches her strip down. The dress is a pretty color, but all colors look pretty on her, he thinks, somewhat absently. Her bare body is much more enticing.   
  
She blinks up at him, green eyes bright as she slips her fingers underneath the waistband of the laced panties she wears and wiggles out of them, slow inch by slow inch. She is making sure he is paying attention, and his eyes dare not so much as flicker away from her. She is looking at him, watching him, watching the way his fingers twitch—the way they itch to reach out and touch her.   
  
She smiles, her smile low and quiet in the dim moonlight. Something thrums through his own body at that look, and he watches the panties fall to the ground as she steps out of them. She is naked, her face a little pink and her body flushed elsewhere. She looks cold, or perhaps the shiver that runs down her body is from anticipation.   
  
“Is it really okay?” she asks, and he nods his head, unwinding the scarf from around his neck and his squared fingers undoing the necessary snaps and zips of his clothing.   
  
She approaches him, and his hands itch to touch her smooth skin again. Nimble fingers help peel away his layers, and then with quiet assertion, she pushes him down onto the bed. Both naked now, she curls into his lap, fingers in his hair as she guides his face up to kiss her. It isn’t overly dominating, but there is something thrilling in the way she asserts that quiet confidence. And he opens his mouth to her and tastes her.   
  
She rolls her hips, just once, and he can feel the bump of his cock against her silky flesh, and his mouth opens a little wider. She swallows the gasp, and his tongue traces the flats of her teeth, the curl of her mouth, the arch of her tongue.   
  
She pushes him harder, still, and he falls onto his back. She sits on him, straddles him, looking down and surveying him. She leans over and kisses at his chest, before slowly disentangling herself from him and sliding away. She is so tiny compared to him, he realizes. A distant thought. There is something thrilling in that, as well.   
  
She does not leave him for long, though—just long enough to grab the lubricant and the strap-on, resting almost-innocently on the bedside table. She swallows, and slips into it with one hand, her other hand clenching around the container. He sits up, and they look at each other for half a moment.  
  
Then she leans in, and kisses him. She bites his bottom lip, almost hesitantly, and then pulls away. With a small jerk of her head, he understands to turn around.   
  
He lifts up, bracing his hands against the bed, feeling her hand touch the bump of his spine. She prepares him, her fingers small and curling inside him.   
  
And then, slowly, she shifts up behind him.   
  
“If…” she begins.  
  
“It’s okay,” he says, and his voice is gruff and husked over with lust.   
  
He doesn’t say anything more, but it’s enough for her to steel her confidence. She shifts, her legs tangling with his, and he feels the press of the fake cock up against him, before it slowly slides into him. His breath stills, for just a moment.   
  
She bends over him, her small, delicate fingers curling around his shoulders, body pressing down onto his back. Her hips jerk in a shaky, indelicate pace, unused to the actions but determined to find the rhythm. He moans beneath her in encouragement and her pace quickens, just slightly. She rolls and jerks her hips, rutting her pelvic bone against the curve of his backside as the strapped-on cock digs deep in and up. His arms are strong and do not shake as they support his own and her weight upon the mattress. The bed creeks in times with her inaccurate thrusting.   
  
He can picture her licking her lips, her wispy hair clinging to sweat-dampened forehead and temples. Perhaps biting her bottom lip in determination. Her body quivers and shudders above him, and he can feel the soft curve of her breasts just below his shoulder blades as she digs her fingers into his shoulders, thrusting into him with abandon. Her body is small and lithe above him, barely covering the expanse of muscles and his back. She is thin, delicate, but her thrusts are dominating him and he submits to her.   
  
She lets out a shaky gasp, bending her head and resting her forehead against his back, her body arched like a bow. Her hips snap against his backside, and the fake cock strikes something deep inside him that makes his body shudder and his hips roll in a pattern inconsistent with her own thrusting, his hips rolling and his own cock, hard, thrusting into air.   
  
There is something powerful and subversive about the way such a small girl dominates him so completely, but he isn’t complaining. In fact, the responses of his body are quite the opposite. Her gentle body, her sweet temperament—they seem so different from the thrusting into him, almost harsh. Her thin legs straddle his, their feet bumping together as she lets out a quiet gasp, her chest heaving and her body shuddering in her attempts to thrust into him deeper, her hands dragging from his shoulders, nails scraping across his back.   
  
She straightens, the palms of her hands digging into his back and forcing him downward. His arms buckle and then bend, and his cheek presses into the smooth fabric of the bed. Her hands drag down his body, and then grasp his hips. She speeds her pace, the cock striking at his prostate until he sees only in flashes of color. She continues to strike him, fingers curled around his hip bones, thumb following the cutting line of his body but drifting away before she can reach around and actually touch him.   
  
He suspects this is on purpose, and even as his thrusts become more frenzied, she does not show pity. He blinks his eyes open and looks up at her over his shoulder. She is small, dwarfed by his size but by no means daunted by this task. She is biting her lip, just like he thought she would be. Her breasts, though small, bounce in her frenzied thrusting, her chest heaving in and out—shallow breaths. Her hair falls across her eyes and frames her face.   
  
He can feel her fingernails cutting into her skin, and though he has been silent this whole time, he cannot prevent the small little command, “Deeper.”  
  
She pauses, for only half a moment, and looks at him with widened eyes. And then she nods, once, and speeds her pace. She rolls her hips away, so that the cock pulls almost completely out of him, and then with a snap of her hips she drives back into him, up to the hilt. His body stretches and adjusts to the new movements, and his cock begs to be touched. Resting the bulk of his weight on one shoulder now, he could take care of himself, but he’s too entranced by the way she is moving.  
  
One hand lifts from his hip, slides up the slouch of her stomach and cups one breast. Her eyes flicker and catch his. Her lips part and she lets out a quiet moan, a quiet gasp, as if she is taken by surprise at being in this situation. But it is not an unpleasant surprise. She tips her head back, exposing her throat. He wants to touch her, but even more he wants her to keep touching him like she is—by not touching.   
  
When he does come, it’s from no touch against his hardened cock, only the sweet touches of the girl behind him—hands upon his back, his hips, cock inside him. He lets out a low moan, and almost chews at the pillows to muffle the sound.  
  
But she relishes it, jerking her hips against him, rutting now to rub herself against the plastic, against him—searching for release as she stimulates herself with the jerky rolls of her hips. It takes a few extra moments, but she finally tenses up, letting out a quiet little cry. She slumps behind him, her arms curling around him, smearing into the sticky ribbons of cum across his heaving belly.  
  
Her cheek pillows against his shoulder blade. She kisses it, softly, and her breath comes out in a quiet, happy little hum.


End file.
